


The Trojan Cat

by CampanullaFae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Caring Morality | Patton Sanders, Doctor Logic | Logan Sanders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Shapeshifting, Sick Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sickfic, Unsympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unsympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), becoming a light side, hunger, janus is also kind of a mess, like remus of all people has to be the reasonable one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampanullaFae/pseuds/CampanullaFae
Summary: Janus says you shouldn't rely on anyone.Remus says thing you'd rather ignore.Orange says all kinds of thing, but he's always screaming.What does the Core Sides say ? Virgil doesn't know. Their window is closed.And Virgil say it's pretty pitiful to go sit on the Core Side's lawn and watch them play scrabbles.OR : no kiddo has the right to be hungry and sad on Patton's lawn.
Relationships: Platonic LAMP
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. The grass is always greener...

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Le chat de Troie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724181) by [CampanullaFae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampanullaFae/pseuds/CampanullaFae). 



> Warning: this is a translation of a fic I wrote in French. There will probably be quite a few mistakes (which is why I wrote it in French in the first place). Feel free to (gently) point them out in the comments !
> 
> Évidemment, si vous parlez (lisez) français, qu’est-ce que vous faites ici ? Allez voir la fanfic originale !! Allez, oust.
> 
> I should update this once a week.
> 
> I'm also on Wattpad at the same username !

Virgil was not spying. And he wasn't jealous.

… Well, Janus would be proud, wouldn't he?

Well, at least the first statement was true. What he was doing was much more pitiful than espionage.

Prowling in the Subconscious was not part of his habits. He knew that the neutral sides (Remy, sleep, and Saul, physical attraction) worked there frequently, but for the core sides and the Others, staying too long in the mist could be dangerous. Virgil had vaguely understood that the Subconscious was connecting somewhere with the Imagination, so that Roman (or Remus, as the case may be) could influence dreams. Maybe one day he would walk that far.

Virgil turned and looked at the two houses further down the otherwise deserted street. At first glance, they looked alike - or rather, they looked like Thomas' house in Real Life. But through the haze of the Subconscious, one could glimpse their differences. The neutral side’s was large (probably too much for just two people) and painted a… well, neutral, gray. The Other’s, and by extension Virgil's, leaned on the side, so decrepit and dirty one could hardly imagine anyone living there.

Virgil sighed. The most important thing was that Thomas was a good person, even if it sometimes made his life… difficult.

He turned again to the third and last house on the street. Colorful and futuristic and warm.

Welcoming.

He would have denied it with the ferocity and pride of a wild cat, but he sometimes did go and sit in front of the core side’s house, just behind the square of light that their window projected onto the grass, and peered inside. At night only, hidden from the occupants by the reflection on the glass.

That night in particular, one more reason for wanting to leave the unpleasant company of the Others spread across the cheek in the form of a long slash. But the _want_ he felt was less difficult to deal with than the worry and grief and pain, and so there he was, away from the screams of Anger, the half-truths of Janus and… he didn't want to think about it, in fact, of Remus.

The comparison was almost laughable. The core sides were playing scrabble.

Of course, Logan was going to win. He knew it, which explained his smirk and superior demeanor. Roman knew it too, but he seemed less upset, less susceptible than Virgil would have imagined. He played valiantly, and dramatically (he was the only one Virgil could hear through the closed window), but without any real animosity.

_The only person he's really aggressive against_ , a small voice whispered to Virgil, _is you_.

He clenched his teeth. Since he had started associating Janus with his negative thoughts, it was much easier to deal with them.

_He doesn't know me. Not really_ , he replied. _Just the facade I use to convince Thomas to listen to me. And he doesn't hate_ just _me. There’s also Remus_.

The voice died down, and he sighed. After the conflict he had just escaped, if his head got into it too, he was ready to duck out in the Subconscious.

He returned his attention to the core sides. After all, that was the purpose of his visit.

Patton also had to know that Logan was going to win (if only because he had almost boundless admiration for him). But nothing seemed to indicate that he cared. After completing his turn, he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, soon reappearing with a plate of steaming cookies.

Virgil bit back a moan. Remus had molded all their food stash (again), and he was starving. Of course, he could have begged Anger for food, but after their argument he was more likely to receive another slap, or worse, than food. And Janus was too “everyone for themselves” oriented to really share… well, anything, really. Social construct and all that. And the worst part was, Virgil couldn't blame Remus, not really. Because if the mustached man couldn't help but make horrible things appear all day long, Virgil could only make creepy things appear.

Without taking his eyes off the ladybug-shaped butter cookie Patton was holding, he raised a hand and focused.

A swarm of mosquitoes gushed out. Virgil moved away sharply - knowing him, they would all be carriers of a fatal blood disease. He sighed as he watched them fly away.

Spying on the light sides calmed Virgil like few other activities could. But it was done at the cost of a wave of… No nostalgia, nostalgia involves something that one has already experienced. A wave of melancholy.

It was the rain that finally drove Virgil away. _How charming_ , he thought as he stood up awkwardly. _Weather to match my mood_. The joke didn't clear the lump in his throat.

However, meeting Patton's stunned gaze proved to be very distracting.

The fool (optimist, whatever) had the window wide open, probably wanting to enjoy the smell of rain. Virgil was so stunned, not having expected this at all, that when the older motioned for him to wait before disappearing into the house, he obeyed without thinking.

The front door swung open, startling him. One of the reasons Virgil liked Patton, beside him always being cordial, was that Virgil couldn't imagine him hurting a fly. This made it easier for him to ignore the part of his brain that was scanning, every second of every minute, for potential danger (his radar, as he called it). His function. He was Anxiety, after all.

If it had been Roman, Virgil probably would have fled. If it had been Logan, he would at least have kept a distance. But it was Patton, kind, friend-shaped, sympathetic Patton, waving at him, with his good character and his butter cookies, and Virgil _wanted_ so badly that sometimes he couldn’t breathe.

So he walked obediently to the door, and let himself be pulled inside.

The house was even more welcoming than he had imagined, warm, all in golden light and the smell of pastry.

“Did you know that the compound that causes "the smell of rain" is called petrichorium?” Logan asked from the living room. “And Patton, humans perceive this scent in infinitesimal amounts, no more than 5 parts per million, even better than sharks smell blood. I really don't think you need to open our front door for this...”

“But Logan, we have a visitor!”

Silence. At Patton's insistence (at this point he had accepted his fate), Virgil took off his wet boots and followed him into the living room, eyes downcast.

No matter how much he expected it, Roman's exclamation hurt no less.

“Him, visit us?”

“I was talking a walk,” Virgil lied flatly.

He had time to see Roman raise his eyebrows, more used to the combative aspect of Virgil, the one determined to save Thomas, than to this passive version, before Patton rebuffed him.

“I invited him, be polite Roman! We're not going to force Virgil to go home in the rain!”

"Good evening," Logan greeted, standing up. “I'll get the first aid kit.”

“Thanks Lolo.”

Virgil raised a hand to his cheek, to the wound he had forgotten was there. Patton gently grabbed his other, leading him deeper into the house, to the kitchen. The layout of the rooms, similar to Thomas's, and his own, helped lift some of his worries. He could get out quickly if need be. In the blink of an eye, he was sitting at the table, a plate of cookies pushed in front of him.

“He might be here to spy on us!” exclaimed Roman, who seemed determined not to take his eyes off the Other. “In fact, we're not even sure it's really Virgil. It could be Janus!”

Patton turned, a teapot in his hands and another argument at his mouth, but this time Virgil didn't need to be defended.

“ **It really is me**.”

He hid a grimace under his bangs when the other two shuddered in response to his ‘demonic voice.’ He was about to apologize when Logan intervened.

“The vocal skills of the respective Others, whether Janus' forced mutism or Remus' focus, are indeed specific to their wearer, and cannot be imitated. Thank you for that assurance, Virgil.”

Ignoring Creativity, he proceeded to cleanse and bandage Virgil's cheek, who reclined a bit in his chair, but didn't object.

Despite himself, Roman seemed almost convinced. At no point did Virgil perceive any real fear coming from him (or Patton or Logan, for what it was worth), just mistrust. He tried, without real bite:

“That doesn't explain why he… you appear injured in our driveway.”

"Orange," Virgil replied in a low voice.

_It's also because of him and Janus that I have the fighting spirit of an overcooked noodle right now_ , he didn’t add.

But it wasn't necessary. Roman could be belligerent, but he was also honorable; If Virgil didn't respond to his attacks, he wouldn't insist. Instead, he sank back into his chair (a complicated affair, all in gilding and red velvet) and only said: “The sword shaped cookies are mine.”

And as Logan moved back to put away his gear, Virgil returned his attention to the plate in front of him.

He could hardly remember ever wanting anything more than he wanted one of those cookies right now, and for a second, the pity he felt for himself seized him by the throat.

But at the same time, his radar was working overtime listing all the reasons why accepting a cookie would be the worst thing he's ever done in his not-quite-a-life.

  1. Maybe they were poisoned? A plan of the core sides to get rid of him?
  2. He was sure to make a fool of himself somehow, choke, put crumbs all over the place, etc.
  3. They would realize how hungry he was, and the shame would keep him awake.
  4. Patton didn't really want him to eat them, only offered it out of politeness, and the right thing to do was to refuse.



“I strongly advise you to at least taste them, they are fresh out of the oven.”

Logan, of course. The voice of reason, to the rescue. Virgil hurriedly looked up from the plate, to meet Logic's gaze, and read that he had definitely noticed his hesitation.

Problem solved: now, not helping himself would seem rude. Virgil grabbed a butter cookie with a slightly shaking hand and brought it to his mouth.

He let out a "mmh" of satisfaction, for once without being embarrassed. The rest of the baked good quickly disappeared.

Fortunately, Logan and Roman had been polite enough to pretend not to stare at him. Virgil accepted a cup of tea from Patton with an almost inaudible "thank you", before recovering:

"Thanks for everything," he whispered, his eyes riveted on the knot of the Morality cardigan. “The cookies are...” _The best thing I remember eating._ “Delicious.”

“Aww, thank you kiddo! I'll prepare a box for you.”

Virgil opened his mouth, ready to protest, but couldn't find the strength to do so. Instead, he warmed his hands over his cup of tea, grabbed a second cookie, and enjoyed the moment.

Roman had stories to tell, as unrealistic as they were (“Dreams, Logan! Dreams matter too!”), Logan wanted Virgil to take his side in a disagreement between him and the "right brain team”, and Patton absolutely wanted to invite him back.

And Virgil knew fully well that the memory of that evening would only make his melancholy worse and that, this time, he would be well and truly nostalgic. But, just this once, he ignored the thought and found himself imagining it to be a regular occurrence.


	2. Spider, cat and salmon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patton’s first pun didn’t translate in English, so I changed it for another that @Cat_With_a_Quill suggested. The original pun was "chaparder" (low key stealing), since "cha" is pronounced like "chat," or cat.

Virgil appeared in his bedroom and immediately sank to his bed. With a final thought to Thomas, to make sure he didn’t accidentally erase everything they'd filmed today, he rolled over to bury his head in his pillow.

Only then did he allow himself to smile, as if letting the universe see him happy, even just a little, would be enough to tempt fate and bring a fresh avalanche of catastrophe upon him.

Really, he was having a hard time admitting how well this video had turn out. There had been conflict, of course, arguments and nicknames thrown left and right, Logan was being ignored, Patton was confused, Roman was taking everything personal and Thomas tried to make everyone behave, like the single mother of four difficult children. But there wasn’t any real venom in the counter-arguments and protests, and eventually, they had come to a conclusion that took everyone's ideas and opinions into account.

Yes, everyone’s. Including his.

Thomas even thanked him for his contribution! Thomas!

If he was being completely honest, Virgil had to admit that the last few videos had played out pretty much like this, with the feeling that they were working together rather than every side for themselves. Maybe he should stop being so surprised every...

“Well, you look _devastated_.”

Speaking of honesty and selfishness.

Modeling his face into a carefully neutral expression, Virgil turned to face Janus. “The video went pretty well.”

No need to lie to _him_.

“Yes, it would seem.”

Virgil winced. He hated having to wonder if Janus was lying or not almost as much as the snake enjoyed it.

“Is Thomas still willing to keep lying to himself?”

The question kept coming up every time Virgil completed a new video. His answer was always more or less the same. “As far as I can tell, yes.”

Janus mumbled something.

"Say, Janus," Virgil began on a whim.

Spur-of-the-moment decisions were rare when you literally (figuratively) represented anxiety. The deceptive side sat down on the bed next to him.

“We all want the same thing, don't we? What’s best for Thomas.”

"Each in our own way, yes," replied the snake. Then, after a short reflection: “Except maybe Remus? If he’s capable of wanting something, which seems questionable.”

Virgil turned his head away to not see Janus' loving gaze. He had every right to appreciate Ratman more than he did Virgil, but that didn't mean Virgil had to think about it. He continued. “And Thomas is a complex being. He wouldn't work without all of its parts. Do you ever think that maybe the best way to help him is to try to collaborate with others?”

Janus fixed on him that scrutinizing gaze that never failed to make him uncomfortable. “Yes, of course.”

Virgil suddenly felt lighter - but only for a second. His smile fell quickly. “I hate it when you do that...”

“Of _course_ , Virgil. Go participate in these little life lessons and try to collaborate with the so called ‘light’ sides. I am sure they will be _delighted_.”

Virgil jumped when mismatched eyes leaned over him.

“Listen to me carefully. We are not multi-faceted humans. We are sides, all fundamentally different, too different to get along. It's every man for himself. The only way to keep Thomas balanced is to all push him as hard as possible in our direction. No one is ever going to accommodate you if you decide to not push as much. They will only take advantage of it. You don't need anyone, and no one needs you.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. “That's what I thought.”

Janus did not mention the lie. Before leaving the room, he gave a final warning. “You'll never get along with the Core Sides, so you might as well settle for what you already have.”

And Virgil didn't mention what he could perceive either - than Janus was afraid.

***

Virgil was hungry.

A nightmare had awaken him from his late afternoon nap, and he was now pacing his room up and down, an exercise made easy by the absence of, well, anything.

No dresser, desk or even curtains on the window; only a mattress on the floor interrupted Virgil's path. Every other object that had once occupied his room had frightened him at one point or another. The curtains moved on their own, there must be a monster (or Remus) in the space under the bed, the shelf could fall on him; and the desk, collapse on his legs. One thought was enough: the innocent piece of furniture was gone, and all the regrets in the world weren't enough to teach Virgil how to summon properly.

At this exact moment, the furnishing (or lack thereof) in the bedroom suited the situation perfectly: Virgil felt the same emptiness in his stomach. Of course, being imaginary, he didn't need to eat, and he knew that if he could convince himself of it, his hunger would go away. But, well, ignoring a danger was not exactly his specialty.

Part of him regretted that he had already finished the box of butter cookies Patton had given him, but deep down he knew fully well that he had rationed them correctly, and that the butter would have gone rancid if he had waited any longer. Which did not stop the regret.

He couldn't even vent on Remus, once again the cause of the lack of food in the house, as Janus would take his part, as usual, and an argument against the serpent was a losing battle. Not to mention that Anger would jump in, and...

Virgil shook his head. Spiraling wouldn't help him. He bit his lip to get rid of his urge to cry. What he needed was a walk.

He crept stealthily down the hall, down the stairs, and managed to get through the front door without passing anyone. There, he hesitated.

He knew full well what he really wanted: to return to the Core Side’s home to enjoy the warmth, the good meal and the few hours of the peaceful company he was sure to find there. But the thing was, last time, everything had happened very quickly. Patton had guided him inside, and he had been too drained to think about resisting. Now, on the other hand, even if he had been offered an official invitation, going to visit the Core Sides would involve making a decision and walking over there and knocking on the door and not running away if Roman answered. And that prospect was considerably more frightening. If the anxious side could have snapped his fingers and found himself sitting in the living room already with the others, he would have, but the process to get there was enough to discourage him.

With a sigh, he gave up and buried his hands in his pockets. During the day he couldn't walk up Main Street of the Mindscape, since other sides could see him. So he went deeper into the forest.

***

The Subconscious was a strange place. The haze that covered everything didn't make the air humid, the light wasn't coming from anywhere in particular, and nothing here had a shadow. He could see the road, the sidewalk, the trees, but if he focused too much, their details would become blurry, and once inside, their memory quickly faded.

It was for all those reasons that the smell surprised him so much. He had never sensed anything so clearly in the Subconscious than that fishy smell. Unsurprisingly, his footsteps (and his stomach, let's be honest) carried him in that direction.

The explanation lay on the edge of an open window: seven small [pâtés](https://cdn.pratico-pratiques.com/app/uploads/sites/4/2018/08/30172257/petits-pates-au-saumon-et-crevettes-nordiques.jpeg) in aluminum molds, set to cool. A quick glance told Virgil this house was the Core Sides’, and he made sure to keep a safe distance.

 _There are seven dishes, and there’s only four of them_ , he reasoned. _Anyway, I need them more, and Patton would certainly give me one if he knew how hungry I was_.

There was still the risk of getting caught. Or rather, of being recognized. His decision made, he metamorphosed.

A movement forward, and Virgil paused, thoughtfully opening and closing his chelicera. Patton had arachnophobia, he remembered. He wasn't going to terrorize him on top of robbing him.

He could only turn into animals that were considered scary, whether because of some old superstition, or because they present real danger. At the same time, he needed something cute, which would attract their sympathy...

Another transformation and the spider was replaced by a cat. He inspected his fur (black, he still had a reputation), tail and paws with a critical eye. He was barely larger than a kitten, possibly due to his malnutrition. But this form was still fast and quiet, and a few jumps were enough to propel him to the edge of the window.

He buried his face in one of the small pie, had time to taste the crust and the salmon-based stuffing, and raised his head.

_What?_

_Keep watch_ , his cat instinct replied.

 _Oh. Okay_.

Look left, look right, and he leaned down to take a few more bites.

As he continued to savor the salmon and shrimps (it was still steaming hot, but also delicious, and Virgil was very hungry) and to stay alert, he examined the sensations that came with his new body.

Firstly, several of his senses were suddenly much sharper, which Virgil did not fail to appreciate greatly: it meant an easier time spotting potential danger, which, for Anxiety, would certainly be useful. After a few seconds, he realized that his mind had also calmed down. The cat in him was wary of possible predators, of course, but not of more hypothetic dangers, like fear of rejection or conflict. Taking the form of a feline kept him anchored in the present, and the present was generally a lot less nerve-wracking than his usual mind would led him to believe.

A thought that was immediately put to the test when the sound of footsteps made him lift his head.

“Kitty!!!”

“Patton, it looks like a feline is vandalizing your pâtés.”

Virgil turned on his heels and jumped out of the window; a few nimble movements and he slipped under a bush, out of sight but not of ears.

“Well Holmes,” Patton was saying, “looks like we've been visited by a... _cat burglar_!”

“Really, Patton? Really?”

“Well, it’s not a _cat-astrophy_. We’ll have enough for supper,” he said while assessing the damage. “Unless Virgil comes over.”

“Is there a reason he would visit us this particular evening?” Logan asked. “It was a pretty standard day.”

"Just a hunch," Patton replied. “Or a… munch!”

A small ball of heat curled up in the pit of Virgil's stomach at the thought that Patton wanted him over enough to count him in his rations. In addition, none of the two sides were afraid of him. He could even feel a bit of worrying! Of course, being scary was a part of his function, but everyone, all the time? The heat quickly subsided, however, as the two sides worked together to take the salmon pies inside, to his disappointment.

While he enjoyed being a cat, and the calm that came with it, he also felt weak and tired. So he decided to just stay curled up under his bush.

Well, okay, maybe he was still spying on the Core Sides.

It could be fatigue, or just a feline influence. After all, Virgil knew cats typically spent the better part of their day sleeping. Either way, the anxious side had swayed to the edge of sleep when a thud woke him up. Looking up over the leaves, he spotted a bowl on the windowsill. He could well recognize the smell that emanated from it.

 _It shouldn’t be allowed, to be nice like that_ , he thought, even if he certainly wasn't complaining.

He trotted to the house, and stopped under the window, straining his ears.

“No Patton, adult cats drink water. Humans are among the only mammals whose adults continue to feed on milk.”

“If you say so!”

A second bowl joined the first, followed by receding footsteps.

With a nimble leap (he was definitely going to use that form more often) Virgil stepped on the edge of the window. A muffled exclamation reached him from across the kitchen.

Keeping his ears turned to the two sides watching him back from the kitchen door, he inspected the contents of the bowls. The salmon pie had been turned and broken up with a fork, and if it remained lukewarm it was no longer scorching hot. His stomach growled loudly, and he bent down again to eat.

"He's so pretty!" Patton whispered adoringly.

Virgil twitched. Immediately, he mentally prayed that Logan wouldn't notice the reaction and connect the dots.

Because, well, Virgil had willingly taken on the role of the big bad wolf, knowing that it would make Thomas listen to him. And if Thomas was listening, Virgil could keep him safe. He had made this choice knowingly, and he did not regret it. Most of the time.

Him being dark and scary didn't bother the Others in the slightest, since they were also "bad guys" in one way or the other. But compliments weren't really part of the “dark sides” vocabulary. And neither Janus’s sarcastic praise nor Remus’s sexual comments could really prepare Virgil for Patton’s unconditional love.

Of course, it was meant for the cat, and not for Virgil (never for Virgil), but still.

Making sure to speak quietly, the two sides settled down to eat. As for Anxiety, who had planned to finish his meal quickly and then get the hell out of there, he was stopped by sudden cramps in his stomach.

 _Refeeding symptoms_ , he thought bitterly.

But he didn't know when he would next get a chance to eat, and didn't want to give up this manna, so he punctuated his meal with long breaks, lazily moving his tail.

Roman announced himself no less loudly than usual. The difference was that this time, he was silenced by someone other than Virgil.

Despite the shudder that ran through him when he heard Creativity enter (for if Patton and Logan had to assume he had escaped the Imagination, Roman wouldn't be fooled) he persisted in not even looking up.

“Oh”, said Roman, a little less loudly (so with the tone of a normal person). “Yes, it's possible. There are a few cats in the village, although none are as skinny and neglected as this one.”

Virgil glared at him indignantly.

“Forget it”, Roman added, raising his eyebrows. “I would have remembered eyes like that.”

Virgil blinked, briefly hiding a green eye and a purple one from the world. A more noticeable trait than he would have liked, but that was beyond his control. In the Mindscape, lies were usually accompanied by mismatched irises (Janus being the ultimate example), and that included misleading appearances. Pretending to ignore that they were talking about him, Virgil started lapping the water from the second bowl.

“So, where did he come from?” Patton worried. “Is he a stray? Is the Subconscious going to hurt him?”

Virgil prepared to flee. He suspected that the soft-hearted side would be ready to take him in, but he was not homeless. He could manage, thank you very much. Not to mention, he certainly didn't want to stay in cat form all the time.

"It probably belongs to some other side," Logan reasoned.

"Probably the dark sides," Roman supposed, “seeing how they treat him. God knows Remy and Saul know how to spoil their dog.”

Having heard enough, Virgil jumped to the ground and disappeared into the fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funniest mistakes google translate made for this chapter:
> 
> “Patton was in the moonlight”  
> “Roman was taking everything at face value”  
> “Speaking of being honest with yourself and beggarly.”  
> “ignoring a danger was not exactly on his ropes”


End file.
